We’re getting a new roof on the house this week. So loud! They’re starting every morning at 7:30, and I’ve just gotten home from work around midnight the night before and am trying to get enough sleep in.
Yesterday, the roofers had a big pile of debris in the driveway, and I had to get through – I was leaving for work. About 4 of them were there, shovelling stuff, and the foreman yelled out, “Clear a path!” They started moving stuff out of my way, and as I walked past a garbage bin, one of the guys dumped a shovelful into it (which I had no problem with). The foreman yelled, “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Grandpa!” And I got really confused. Who is Grandpa? Is he calling me Grandpa? It wouldn’t be the first time – it’s kind of a thing that I’m called Grandpa, or “Baby Grandpa.” But how would this guy know that?!!
The one they were actually calling Grandpa seemed flustered too. Apparently he got yelled at for dumping stuff too close to where I was walking. In his defense, he said, “I thought he was with the crew.”
“Grandpa” was later confirmed when I talked to the owner of the company on the phone, and he said if I have a question, I can ask Paul, the foreman, or Steve, “the one they call Grandpa.”
I like being mistaken for someone on the crew!!! (better than thinking I was mistaken for “grandpa.”)
Later that day at work, I found an advertisement for a book in one of the teacher’s trash. It was this book, “How to Babysit a Grandpa,” and it claims the way to babysit a grandpa is to eat olives served on fingertips; look for lizards, cool rocks, and dandelion puffs; and somersault across the room. Not sure about your grandpa, but mine loves olives and he helped me out with a roofing repair about a year ago.